The Midnight Call
At 24 weeks, I woke thirsty and found his side of the bed empty.
A light glowed beneath the kitchen door.
I started toward it.
Then Adam laughed.
“She still thinks she’s doing this for my promotion.”
I froze.
“No. She doesn’t suspect anything. She’s been happier lately.”
The refrigerator hummed.
I held the doorframe and listened.
His voice softened.
“I want that too. But we have to wait until the baby’s born. She has no idea about us.”
The baby moved.
Then Adam said, “Graham, once she’s delivered, I’m leaving her. We can finally raise our child together.”
For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
I backed away before the floor creaked.
In the downstairs bathroom, I gripped the counter until the dizziness passed.
Adam and Graham.
Together.
I’d been carrying a baby for my husband’s lover.
I thought about Adam’s hand on my stomach.
That smile.
He hadn’t been smiling because he’d found his way back to me.
He’d been imagining the family he was building without me.
Upstairs, Sophie slept with her bedroom door cracked open.
I sat outside it for a long time.
I wanted to march downstairs and demand the truth.
Or call Graham.
Neither would tell me what would happen to Sophie.
I counted the weeks left until the due date.
Sixteen.
He’d apparently been counting them for a different reason.
Eventually, I got up and went to our bedroom.
I lay on the far edge of the bed.
Adam returned sometime later.
He reached for my hand in the dark.
I pretended to be asleep.
The next morning, Adam kissed my forehead and asked whether I’d slept well.
“Not really.”
“I’ll pick up dinner tonight,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to cook.”
I watched him grab his car keys.
That tiny, familiar gesture suddenly looked different.
May you like
I wanted to shout.
Instead, I said, “Okay.”
